


Letters

by Madredhattie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madredhattie/pseuds/Madredhattie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble. The Romanian War of Independence marks the first time Romania has been separated from his younger brother for an extended period of time since the latter's appearance. They keep up a correspondence in the months apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Ciprian is Moldova.

They write letters to each other nearly constantly. Romania does, at least. Ciprian draws his words, having stubbornly refused to put himself to properly learning how to write.

Ciprian uses all manner of mediums to produce his ‘letters’. Pencil, ink, a few incredibly messy and smudged charcoal pieces that must have originally depicted something understandable before small fingers became too excited, and at least one brightly colored bird that Romania is certain was born of the high quality pigments reserved for the murals of the unfinished castle. Above all else, though, the boy favors watercolor.

Each image is a reminder of the peace that awaits once this war for freedom is won, even the one of a cat wearing what seems to be a roll as a hat. Castles, animals, fantastic creatures, food, people, all are rendered with the enthusiasm of childhood. Blemishes and imperfections are present, here where Ciprian must have swept his sleeve through the still-wet ink, there where he accidentally dripped the water from cleaning his brush directly on the page.

And there is always one of the two of them together, without fail. They are his favorites.

For his part, Romania writes of future triumphs and a life free of Ottoman rule alongside his own experiences. He tells of how a cannon slipped backwards into a deep mud puddle and he spent the better part of a day helping to haul it out again. Of how he laughed when he saw a Turkish officer thrown from his horse while scouting. Of the energy and spirit his men display, eager to be free at last, and how their determination fills him with pride. And he always ends his letters with a story, of the fantastic yarn that Ciprian loves so much.

 

* * *

 

It quickly becomes impractical for him to keep all of the pictures his brother sends. Ciprian is quite prolific, and Romania can only carry so many of the papers with him before he will have to start sacrificing more important supplies to make room in his pack. One quiet evening he starts handing out the drawings to the men who have not been fortunate enough to receive letters from their own families.

In his own letter he tells of how he gave away many of the drawings, hoping that Ciprian will understand. Romania would love to keep them all, but he can’t, not in a war, and the delight with which they were received lifted his own spirits.

The next bundle has almost twice as many pictures as the last.

  

* * *

 

In December he does not receive a bundle of papers from the couriers. All that is handed him is a single sealed envelope. He argues with the delivery boy, surely there was more addressed to one Mircea Ionescu of the 4th Infantry, but to no avail. Scenarios race through his mind as he takes the meager correspondence – something has happened, Ciprian is unwell, or worse – as he isolates himself from the other soldiers.

Several of them have learned of what he is by now, and he doesn’t want them to see him crumple, not when they are so close to victory, all because of a single letter. Romania breaks the wax seal, hands slightly shaking with worry as he unfolds the message…

…and his eyes are greeted by the most atrocious handwritten Romanian he’s seen in ages. Misshapen letters, forgotten accents, words spelled correctly only to have been crossed out and hastily scrawled in again, this time in error, all hallmarks of the beginner scribe. Any fears he had have been banished by the sloppy penmanship, the efforts of a young boy who has finally taken to writing after so long.

It speaks of Ciprian’s adventures through the castle still being built (they are putting the stories on the ceiling!), of how one of the mouser cats had a litter of kittens that he plays with every day, how pretty the countryside is, of many other things.

Of how much he misses his brother, and hopes that soon he will win his freedom and come home, and they can sneak food from the kitchens and walk the mountains again.

And at the bottom of the page, scribbled in the small remaining space, is a little picture of them together.

**Author's Note:**

> Another cross-post from tumblr, this time Carpathian Brothers fluff in a historical context because that's honestly my favorite thing. It's very short, but hopefully cute and fluffy and heartwarming!


End file.
